In retrospect, 2011 looks like the turning point of Lil Wayne’s career. He was coming off almost a year in prison, and the last album he'd offered fans before beginning his sentence was early 2010's Rebirth, a misguided-if-actually-kind-of-endearing rock album. By the time he was free and the summer of 2011 swung around, the thought of new Weezy filled fans with feelings they would never have again: anticipation and excitement. We got Carter IV.
Fast-forward to 2015 and, after four years of hit-or-miss releases, The Free Weezy Album. A set billed as a "Tidal exclusive" doesn’t exactly inspire confidence. Tidal is already looking like the MiniDisc of streaming services and it’s only been around for a few months. The existence of FWA starts to make sense when you realize that Birdman (and by extension Cash Money) has essentially taken what would be Carter V hostage, and Wayne is currently prohibited from profiting from new music. But, as an "artist owner" of Tidal, no one is telling him he can’t release things for free. The Free Weezy Album, then, has a double meaning.
For every memorable line or couplet (on "He’s Dead", he flatly admits "rest in peace to the Cash Money Weezy, gone but not forgotten," and on "Pull Up", a clear Young Thug diss song, he pulls some vocal acrobatics, mimicking Thug's percussive, ratatat delivery) there are many clunkers ("she get hard dick and McDonald’s 'cause she so tired of them whoppers," from "I Feel Good"). Closer "Pick Up Your Heart", a tedious attempt at channeling protégé Drake, features Wayne pleading "I don't wanna do it no more" but any kind of emotional resonance is nullified by a goofy spoken-word outro. His last words on this record are "She said she wanted sprinkles, I said sprinkles are for winners."
Listening to FWA—which is slight by design and not any kind of statement release—I kept thinking, "This is what listening to a new Dylan LP in the '80s must have felt like." You knew you were in the hands of a living great, and you could convince yourself a few songs every few years were worth saving. Across FWA's 15 tracks and laborious 65 minute runtime, I can salvage "Glory" and maybe "Without You", but I can’t help but feel like the guy cherry-picking songs from Knocked Out Loaded. The effort and energy are there but the soul is missing, even when Wayne calls back to New Orleans bounce staple sample "Trigga Man", references TRU, or in the album’s funniest and oddly sweet moment, says "it’s Lil Wayne, I been this shit since Lil Zane," which only reminds you of when he was young, hungry, and full of potential.
It all raises the question: What do you want from Lil Wayne in 2015? Because let’s face it: 2007 Wayne ain’t walking through that door. Since 2011 and "Grove St. Party" with Lil B, how much Wayne music could be deemed essential? Has he crossed a "Simpsons" line where he’s been "okay" longer than he was great? Wayne will always wring a few memorable lines from any song, but how many of his mixtapes or singles or features have had staying power since then? Is this what we want from 2005’s best rapper alive? Are you the same person you were a decade ago?
